


something to celebrate

by spiritypowers



Series: how rare and beautiful it truly is that we exist [2]
Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: F/M, Grief/Mourning, Present Tense, i can only write when i Project but it's fine everything's fine, in which i process my own semi-unresolved grief lmao, rayllum birthday bash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-07-01
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:20:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25018402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spiritypowers/pseuds/spiritypowers
Summary: The anniversary of the day they met isn't an easy one to process, even five years later. But through it all, they have each other. // Written for wordswithdragons' Rayllum Birthday Bash event. Prompt: Anniversary
Relationships: Callum/Rayla (The Dragon Prince)
Series: how rare and beautiful it truly is that we exist [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1812508
Comments: 11
Kudos: 143





	something to celebrate

It doesn’t get any easier, five years later, even if they no longer remember right away—they wake up, brush their teeth, make breakfast, go on a morning stroll long before they realize what day it is—to figure out all the emotions behind the anniversary of the day they met.

There’s a fondness, as they bake cookies together in comfortable silence, as Callum remembers the moment they met, set apart from some of the madness that had ensued outside of it on that day.

“Why did you indulge me?” he’d asked the second year, about the informal ethics debate he’d mainly used to stall her, the first time they’d met. He can remember wondering why he hadn’t asked sooner. But maybe that’s part of their charm; there’s never any pressure to broach certain subjects, and they’ve always been good at rolling with whatever comes their way.

“I told you. I didn’t want to kill you.” Rayla had been in her pajamas that evening, her small hands wrapped around a mug of hot cocoa similar to the mug she held now, rounded at the bottom and off-white, the bottom a little yellowed after having left so many moisture rings on the low tea table in the living room. “I also just… wanted to hear what you’d say. I think I wanted you to convince me. Which you did,” she’d added with a smile, softer and a little sadder than now, as she pulls a tray of cookies out of the oven.

It would be a more cheery day if it was just that, their “friendship anniversary”, as he loves to call it, but there’s a lot about their first year together that’s complicated. Even the anniversary of their relationship is tied to some painful memories for her, ones that have healed now, even if there are hidden scars that never fully fade. That’s what their friendship anniversary is for him; a strange, bittersweet reminder of what brought them together in the first place.

He’s drawing a picture of Harrow when they’re on the couch with their tea and cookies, Rayla’s eyes tracking every movement of his pencil. He’s gotten used to her watching by now, after almost a year of marriage, and something in his chest eases when she rests her head on his shoulder.

“Have you heard from Ez?” she asks, and he knows why she’s asking it as he nods.

“I got a letter yesterday. He’s doing okay, even if he wishes he could be here, or have us there. He made an appointment with his therapist for today, and I think he was gonna spend the rest of the day with Ellis and Ava and Corvus, so,” Callum smiles, even if it is a little sad, “he’ll be fine.”

“And you?” Rayla prods gently. His brow furrows as he looks back at his drawing; Harrow is laughing in this one, the corners of his eyes crinkling the way Ezran’s sometimes does, even if they look more like their mother’s when he smiles. His throat tightens as he remembers his stepfather’s last words to him, in a letter, carefully rolled up and hidden away in a drawer next to his old sketchbook, but his eyes don’t sting as much as previous years.

He can still remember the first anniversary clearly; he’d been a mess, still a boy in some ways as he tried to reconcile the fact that he’d lost his stepfather on the same day he’d gained possibly the most important member of his current family, his tongue heavy in his mouth as he attempted to express to Rayla what hurt, because how could he express the guilt of being grateful for her and for them in spite of it all without stinging her as well? 

(It had turned out that she’d felt the same regardless—she’d tried not to cry too but he had held her anyway, wondering if she would ever understand what it had meant when she’d offered to follow him back into that tower. If he could ever express exactly what it meant.)

The second anniversary had been more sullen, but also more introspective, a byproduct of getting into a routine of regular therapy sessions in the midst of their normal travels. They’d talked, including but not limited to the question about their ethics discussion, and it had set the precedent for the next few years. Probably the next several, if not the rest of their lives. Callum can’t remember crying at the third year mark but recalls breaking down at the fourth late that night, newly engaged and thinking of all the milestones his parents weren’t present for. At the same time, he also can’t remember ever not feeling that uneasy conflict that’s always been part of the family they’ve made together, broken and mended, cracks held together by gold as they’ve all learned and healed and added to their numbers over the years. Some days are harder for some or for all of them than others. This is no different.

“I think I’m okay,” he answers finally, unsure of how to feel about the ease at which it comes. “I think… I dunno. It doesn’t sting as much,” he admits, a welcome change after having to cross a milestone like marriage without his parents. “I think it’s easier, this year, to say that I miss him, while still… being okay with my life, I guess? And not feeling guilty. He wouldn’t want me to be, and he’d be glad that something good came out of that day, but…” He sighs, and Rayla lays a hand on his forearm. “I miss him. I always will, and I think it’s always gonna hurt a little, no matter how long it’s been.” His eyes are watery even as he manages a tiny smile. “But I’m also grateful that I met you. I feel more  _ okay _ feeling both, you know?”

“I think so,” Rayla says softly, glancing up at him with a patient smile. His own widens by just a fraction, even as he has to blink back the stinging in his eyes. She takes his hand, squeezing it gently, and not for the first time he wonders how there can be so much strength in something so small as he squeezes it back.

“What about you?” he asks, and he watches her eyes grow a little shiny in turn.

“Grateful for you, too. Even if I also wish some things had turned out differently.”

Callum nods. Rayla had also technically lost Runaan that day, and even though he’s back and safe and just a few minutes’ walk away, they both still have some losses associated with that day. “But you’re okay?”

He’s asking a different question, and she knows it as she answers, “Yeah. I don’t feel guilty anymore.”

“Good. Because all our parents would agree that we both deserve something good to hold onto.” His smile feels a little lighter when Rayla hugs his arm to her chest. “And… I know you didn’t want to today, but do you want us to make an appointment for later this week? I know we’re okay, but it never hurts to talk about things just to make sure, you know?”

“Yeah. That’s a good idea.” She glances at his drawing again. “We should also write Ez again. Just so we’re all taking care of each other this week.”

“I like that plan.” He presses a kiss to the side of her head. “In the meantime, we can also celebrate some of the good that happened? Like me getting to meet my best friend?”

“I thought we  _ were _ celebrating,” she says, her smile finally just a little brighter, and he can feel his brighten too. “We made cookies and everything. Unless you want to go wild and get dinner somewhere too.”

Callum laughs, and it comes more easily this year than it might have other years. It’s a mercy not many others are afforded, that they can find something to celebrate in the midst of past grief. That they have each other through it all.

He brings her hand up to his lips and presses them to her knuckles. “Sounds perfect, love.”


End file.
